


Sounds in the Night

by donutsweeper



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Watson is ill, John has been stabbed and both Sherlock and Holmes wish to help them get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/)**watsons_woes** July 25th prompt, the supernatural.

  
**Watson**   


It had been nearly a week since Watson had first become ill but still the fever raged within him. Dr Anstruther had done all he could, but, as he explained, there was a limit to what medicine could do.

Holmes did not take kindly to such a proclamation and had no qualms about informing Anstruther of that fact, vociferously and in great detail, before shooing the man out the door.

"Quit berating the doctor, Holmes," Watson chastised during one of his moments of lucidity. "There is only so much one can do for infection. It is my own fault for not giving it proper treatment earlier."

"No, no, Watson. None of that now," Holmes said, hushing Watson's self-reproach. "You were too busy looking after my wellbeing to take care of your own. Again. When you are better we will be having words about that ridiculous trait of yours."

"Holmes..." Watson huffed as he brushed a shaking hand across his face, wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"For now, we shall do what we can to keep that fever down. Cool cloths will help." After giving Watson a quick pat on the shoulder, Holmes stood and headed for the door. "I shall be back momentarily. You should try to rest until I return."

"Try not to worry so, I shall be fine," he said with a yawn before blinking tiredly.

"Of course you will. I insist upon it," Holmes declared before he left, shutting the door behind him.

Once Holmes had gone Watson let his eyes drift closed. He had to admit, sleep sounded like a very good idea.

  
**John**   


"Perhaps staying longer in hospital would not have been a bad idea," Sherlock grumbled as he watched John shuffle into the bedroom.

"I'm fine, Sherlock," John said. Again. However, he was unable to hide the pain in his voice.

"You were _stabbed,_ John."

"Yes. Yes, I was. And, believe it or not, I am fully aware of that fact. I _am_ a doctor after all. Now, my wound's been cleaned and stitched, I’ve taken antibiotics and there was not enough blood loss to justify a transfusion. I am fully capable of keeping an eye on said wound and ensuring it's healing properly so there was no reason to stay."

"John..."

"Sherlock, please. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight. It’s been an exceptionally long week and I just want to get some sleep."

"The instructions you were given upon being discharged mentioned there was the possibility of fever."

"The discharge papers." John sighed. "You actually read those? No one reads those."

"If no one reads them, then why provide them?"

"I don't know." John eased himself slowly down onto his bed. "Covering their arses, I suppose."

"You need to hydrate. And rest. I'll be right back with some water and a book or two. Oh, and your next dose of medication. And my violin."

"Violin?"

"Yes, yes. My violin. I'll need something to do whilst I observe you tonight."

"Sherlock, it's not necessary. None of that is necessary. I'm fine," he insisted. But not quickly enough, Sherlock had already shut the door behind him. John groaned. "That violin. Maybe I can fall asleep before he gets back and then I won't have to listen to the noise he makes on that thing."

Or, he thought as he shut his eyes, he could at least pretend to be sleeping. Maybe Sherlock would have pity on him and stay quiet to let him sleep. It was unlikely, but worth a try.

  
**Watson**   


It was the dead of night when Watson next awoke. The fever still burned within him, leaving him feeling as if he were surrounded by a thick haze that little was capable of working its way through. Holmes did though, unsurprisingly, Holmes always managed to find his way to Watson. If death couldn't stop the man, what chance did a fever have?

It was the soft strands of the violin that had teased him to consciousness. He was playing Mendelssohn, which was odd as Holmes had no love for Romantic composers, but Watson certainly appreciated it. He let the soothing tones of _Lieder ohne Worte_ lead him back to a restful slumber.

  
**John**   


When he opened his eyes again he couldn't see Sherlock clearly, only a shadowy figure standing by the window and using the light from the streetlamp to pore over a book. John had assumed it some sort of clinical text until Sherlock, having somehow realized John was awake began to read aloud:

_Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,_

Poetry. Sherlock was reading poetry. Happily surprised, John let _The Raven_ lull him back to sleep.

  
**Watson**   


"Good morning, doctor. Feeling better?" Holmes asked, an actual smile on his face.

Watson took a deep breath, accessing his condition. "I do, my fever must have broken sometime in the night."

"No doubt due to how well you rested- a result of my influence I am happy to report."

"Yes, Holmes. I believe it was. I did sleep rather well. Thank you."

  
**John**   


"Ah, John. You look less like you are about to keel over this morning."

John scrubbed his hand over his face. "See, I told you I didn't need to stay in the hospital. All I needed was a good night's sleep.

"Which you received, entirely to my influence of course."

"I think you actually helped in that regards. For once."

  
**Watson**   


"Thank you for the violin performance last night, Holmes."

"Violin? You must be confused, old boy, perhaps a touch of the fever still remains? I did not play violin last night, I read to you."

  
**John**   


"You should read out loud more often, Sherlock, you have a wonderful voice for it."

"Why thank you, John, but I have no idea what you're talking about. Last night I played Mendelssohn for you. Maybe we should consider a quick trip to the hospital after all?"

 


End file.
